


Cornflower bloom

by Geisterschiff



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Getting Together, Language of Flowers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Hunk (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Polyamory, Witch Hunk (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 05:18:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16056320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geisterschiff/pseuds/Geisterschiff
Summary: When Hunk opened his little shop in the designated neighborhood, he expected things to be slow at first.He did not expect people to stream in asking for potions, good luck charms, spell scrolls and other trinkets.He did not expect two cute young men to become his regular customers.He did not expect to fall for both of them.And he certainly did not expect them to come in together asking for a love charm when they were clearly a couple.





	Cornflower bloom

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken part in the Rarepair Flash Bang hosted over at tumblr. :3c  
> For this fic I have been paired with the awesome Metropolicss, who is an absolutely sweet person and amazingly talented and drew me such a cute art for the fic it almost melted me. ;w; You can check the art [here](http://metropolicss.tumblr.com/post/178322150674/i-had-the-wonderful-pleasure-to-create-art-for), as well as more of their amazing work! <3  
> Second thanks goes to Nigg and Peggy, who helped me by reading through my writing and picking up dumb typos and flow errors I overlooked <3 Thank you guys, you are amazing!

Soon, and Hunk is sure, his fingers will be engraved into the flower pot. He keeps going back to it. Shifting it. One centimeter to the left. No, no, that looks wrong. One centimeter to the right. No. That looks even worse.  
Hunk pulls at his hair and is paper thin close to screaming. He has a shop of full shelves, an urge to rearrange everything, and a clock showing 8:30 AM. How much can he manage in half an hour?  
He has been at it since 5AM. Repositioning supplies he had shelved late into night yesterday. Hunk runs on two hours of sleep, but fatigue just brushes past him. He pushes the pot to its original position and shuffles to where it itches the most right now.  
A shelf to the left he checks if he has enough cornflower blooms. 35 pieces. Could he run out? Nah, too high expectations. That many customers won’t even come on the first day. It’s back to the flower pot that sits on his mind, all heavy and mocking.

Hunk might have been eight when he discovered his gift for witchcraft. He delved in and delved deep. His mother was supportive and more than that. She found him a mentor.  
Hunk will always remember the day of gray blue clouds squabbling with the sun as he pushed the heavy door open and set his first step into their shop. It smelled of cardamom and possibilities. Of birch tree and dreams. Of chamomile and future.  
Hunk excelled at potions, no surprise. He had always loved to cook. With some arts, Hunk struggled, yet never gave up and pushed. He wouldn’t be making impenetrable ward scrolls, but when he finished the first protection charm that didn’t blow up, the day seemed brighter. And the dream of his own shop closer.

The large stand clock in the corner of the shop announces 9 AM and Hunk jumps. The sound of his swallow deafens and the sweat on his nape burns like grounded ginger in a fresh wound.  
His own shop is where Hunk stands now and regrets his dreams. Almost.

It’s not easy to open one’s own witchshop. There is an application process. And willingness.  
Balance is important. To maintain balance, there should be only one shop in a certain radius. With an approval in hand, one still has to be willing to move across the country to their destined location.

Hunk thinks about that as he unlocks the front door with trembling hand.

  


Hunk’s expectation of few people coming in during his first day is not met. In the afternoon, he is disheveled and shocked the door is still in hinges.  
He couldn’t count them even if he remembered them all.  
One customer among the last few, who comes in as the shop is empty and Hunk slumps on a chair, is the one Hunk remembers.  
He has a bright smile and is tall enough to look Hunk in the eyes once he stands. An acrid smell of pine accompanies him and Hunk knows what’s wrong before he opens his mouth.  
“Hey, I have – “  
“Ciniastrum?” A mortar clinks onto the oak counter. “Just yesterday, right?” His eyes drift to the man’s left hand, who squints at him.  
“Man, you are good.”  
“It’s not so difficult to recognize this. You reeked all the way from the door.”  
“I don’t reek!”  
Hunk carefully unwraps the bandage to reveal a nasty burn that’s turning the skin green. He winces.  
“That got you good.”  
“Yeah, someone at work apparently hates me. Should I consider myself lucky it happened just around the time you opened your shop?”  
Hunk answers with a focused hum, and slips necessary ingredients into separate pockets of his vest so they don’t mingle until they are supposed to.  
Apparently, the man’s name is Lance. And apparently, he loves to talk. A lot. Hunk is not so good at filtering. His mentor was never one to chatter. Lance’s voice however, is soothing, and doesn’t disturb his concentration as he grinds the paste.  
He spreads a thin sheet over the curse and wraps Lance’s hand in a bandage as brown as forest ground.  
“You need someone else to put these on or it won’t work.” There is more of both for Lance to take home. “Change it once a day in the evening. It should be gone in two-three days.”  
“That’s great. Thank you…” Lance trails off, but still looks expectant as he reaches for his wallet.  
“Hunk.”  
“Well, thank you, Hunk.” Lance grins, but when he turns and bangs his head against one of the lower hanging pots, he pouts. As Hunk watches Lance leave he can’t help himself to grin instead.

It’s a week before things calm down a little and before he comes along.  
Hunk locks up to enjoy his lunch. Packs it out on the little fold table as someone appears in the shop’s entrance. Something intriguing rolls off their posture, their hand touching at the ‘lunch’ sign. Something that makes Hunk get up and open. He looks into eyes of heavy purple ink.  
“Hello.”  
“Oh, hi. Sorry, didn’t want to disturb your lunch. I will come back later.” Hunk doesn’t let him leave.  
The customer doesn’t talk much and doesn’t know exactly what he needs. Just something to help. So Hunk sits down and makes the best protection charm yet. He gives a discount too and his head feels like a fishpond as he bites into his lunch.

His name is Keith, as Hunk finds out later. Both him and Lance become his regular customers. There isn’t a week one of them wouldn’t come along. Hunk learns more about them and suffers. Because the more he finds out, the deeper he falls.  
With Lance it’s easy and not. He does talk a lot, but Hunk has to read the real meaning in between the lines.  
With Keith it’s a different kind of difficult. Hunk has to lure the words out, but at least they taste honest.

  


A year slowly rolls over for a belly scratch and it creeps on Hunk how desperately in love he is. With both. What unfortunate circumstances.  
And surprising, too. They couldn’t be different. Where one pushes, the other pulls. And Hunk can’t think of anything but smooching their cheeks.

Hunk sighs as he crushes a cornflower between two quartz plates. He is working on a love-charm to be picked up in two hours. He should make the opposite for himself and hope it soaks up all his feelings. If only it worked that way.  
It has been over a week since either of them showed up. Pain had settled in his chest and worry in his belly. At least until the door opens and the bell rings.

“Hey Hunk!” It’s Lance’s cheerful voice and that’s the first strange – Lance was the last visitor.  
The second strange hits when Hunk lifts his head and sees Keith right in tow. Closing the door. Locking up. Turning the little ‘closed’ board.  
“Hi Hunk.” That smile could light stars up.

“What are you making?” Lance peeks over the counter, but knows better than to lean against it.  
“A love charm.” Hunk’s voice has a suspicious tingle.  
“Oh, we might need one too, right Keith?” So they know each other.  
Keith hums. When he steps next to Lance and their shoulders brush, the jumbled pieces in Hunk’s brain melt together. His brows furrow. Had he been had? Were they making fun of him for a whole year?  
“Why would you need one? Aren’t you a couple already?” It’s a spit down to their feet as his eyes flick from Keith to Lance and back. The noise Lance makes is high pitched.  
“Ah, where do I begin?” He rubs his hands, shifting on the spot.  
“We are in an open relationship.” Keith cuts right to the point. No preamble. No bullshit. His usual raw honesty. “And… Lance got a crush on you practically on his first visit. He sent me over to check if I’m okay with him having a fling with you.”  
“Except, Keith thought too, that you were really cute.”  
“And since we were both interested…”  
“We decided to nudge around and see, if you might be too.” The exchange flows as well as one man talking. Almost like rehearsed. But Lance’s nervous shifting and Keith’s steady hand around his waist shows they just work really well together. Who would have thought.  
“One year is a hella lot of nudging for a fling.” That was not where his last year’s thoughts were wandering to and not where he was sure he was willing to wander.  
“Uhm, we thought -“ It’s Lance, who starts, but Keith who finishes.  
“Maybe for a bit longer than a fling.”

The cornflower has been under the quartz too long and Hunk will have to start anew. But if that earns him two cute boyfriends, then starting anew doesn’t sound so bad.  
“Yeah, I might be.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to come scream with me about Voltron or Klunk or anything really, you can do so on my [tumblr](geisterwrites.tumblr.com)!


End file.
